


Message From The Soul, Written in the Palm

by Lunarium



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Flower Mark Soulmate AU, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Language of Flowers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Star-crossed, threat of death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 05:32:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15332880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarium/pseuds/Lunarium
Summary: Everyone was born with their soulmate’s mark in the form of an flower in their right hand that blossomed when they met their soulmate. The flower came with a message, ancient and prophetic, something no science could explain.And Keith, orphaned and alone, cannot fathom how anyone could want him this deeply, for the flower on his palm came with the message:your presence softens my pain.





	Message From The Soul, Written in the Palm

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Kyuu for the Sheith Flower Exchange! <3 
> 
> So much thanks and gratitude to Rox for helping me smooth the bumps on the story as well as beta-reading! You Rock, Rox! <3

Everyone was born with their soulmate’s mark in the form of a flower in their right hand. It appeared as lines on their palm from the moment of their birth; it slowly opened throughout their life as if to tease, but it only ever blossomed fully when that hand touched their destined soulmate. 

The flower was different for each, as one may get a rose while their partner would get a daisy in return. That was because within each flower contained a message, words spoken from the heart of one mate to the other, prophetic though it may seem. The ancients have pored through hundreds, thousands, _millions_ of palms, and interviewed couples, all to record the meaning of these flower marks, fascinated as they were by the accuracy of the words contained, the messages each soul carried from their destined mate, be it a promise, a request, a yearn. 

And so there was no mistaking the message in Keith’s flower mark: Milkvetch, _your presence softens my pain._

He pulled his hand away from the palm interpreter. It was common to have one’s palms read by age thirteen, as couples were often excited to help their children begin building gardens to get a better understanding of who their soulmate may be. But Keith came by himself, parentless and alone in the world.

“Are you sure that is correct?” he asked. 

“It is so, my dear,” the palm interpreter said, her old misty voice lost to the thin wisps of pink smoke from the incense. Keith thanked her and offered a small tip, then studied his palm once more once he had exited the long tent curtains. 

It wasn’t that he was of the romantic sort, that he was eager to find his one. It was simply tradition. His parents would have taken him here on his thirteenth birthday. 

He hadn’t even thought his soulmate even needed him after all that’s happened in his own life. After all, he was growing accustomed to no eyes veering in his direction, not ever receiving a “Good day” or a “How do you do?” or even a greeting on the warmest holidays. Invisible and unwanted. Poor, underfed, a grim future. That was Keith. 

And yet… _your presence softens my pain._

His soulmate’s words burned in his brain.

⚘⚘⚘

Much in the philosophy of garnering one’s soulmate’s attention had passed Shiro. His parents had chatted with their estate’s personal interpreter and flower mark expert, then insisted on him building a most beautiful garden of viburnum. It would mean building near his grandfather’s home, and Shiro was glad for a chance to get away from the main manor. Not that he didn’t love his family, but their exuberant obsession over attracting his soulmate was beginning to unnerve him.

“Viburnum?” Grandpa Ryou said when Shiro had come to him with pots of seeds. His eyes reflected Shiro’s own warm compassion. 

“ _I die if neglected_ ,” Shiro recited, and his heart ached again at the implication of the message. This was his soulmate’s soul-message to him, a message that stumped all explanation by science, prophetic and solidified before birth. “I’m worried for them. I wish to find them as soon as I can. Maybe they need me. Grandpa, what if I am late, and they die while waiting for me—” 

“Must be why your family is already on a hunt for your mate,” his grandfather said and chuckled. 

Shiro shrugged. “They seem just excited to go looking. They think it’s romantic, the general and the baroness of King Alfor and Queen Fala setting out to rescue some damsel in distress.” 

Grandpa Ryou laughed. “How so? By having you shake hands with all of the locals?” 

Shiro sighed. “Guess so. But I’m scared for my soulmate.” 

His grandfather gave a grunt as he dug the shovel into the earth. “You best not worry. The flower in your palm has not wilted, has it? No? Then, your soulmate is made of steel. They are holding up, then.” 

“But…” _I have a bad feeling_ , Shiro wanted to say but couldn’t. He helped his grandfather till the earth and plant the seeds into the earth according to his instruction. When that was done, his grandfather helped him erect a plaque with his full given name, Takashi Shirogane, so that the admirer can know the owner of the garden. Shiro touched one petal with the very tip of his finger, as not to crush it, wondering where his soulmate was, and if they were all right. 

“And hope this garden attracts them, or…whatever it’s supposed to do.” 

His grandfather gave another hearty laugh and clipped him on the shoulder. “You would be surprised by the stories I’ve heard. Now let’s present this to the general and baroness. It’ll get their minds off the unpleasantries with the other kingdom.”

⚘⚘⚘

_Your presence softens my pain._

His mother had long ago run off into the war. The kingdom—an empire, really—of Daibazaal was where she had hailed, but she had no loyalty to it. The vast kingdom was their world’s moon, glowing silver behind deep violet clouds during the night, but visibly black during the day. His father had remained on Altea until death took hold of him, leaving Keith orphaned and alone at a young age. 

Keith still lived at his parents’ home. They had a garden there, full of Jacob’s ladder _(come down to me_ ) and deep pink roses _(thank you for being in my life_ ). The former was what his mother had on her palm; interestingly, she had crash-landed just yards from his father’s home. And although they had met—completely by chance, a love story that rivaled all the fairy tales in Keith’s little bookshelf—they kept the garden to celebrate their love, a garden in hues of jewel-like pinks and soft violets. 

And although she had left while Keith was still so young, his father spoke fondly of Krolia until the day he died. 

The flowers now dried and wilted. Keith tried to salvage them, as if doing so would keep alive whatever remained of his family. A few years later, he planted milkvetch instead, and wondered: who could possibly find his presence a salve to their pain? 

He was alone. He couldn’t hold a friendship, and later, couldn’t hold a job. The war with the empire raged on. Any resolutions for peace between King Alfor and Emperor Zarkon kept dissolving amidst one dispute after another. Keith enlisted to fight; if he could live for no one, then he could at the very least die protecting his kingdom. Be the faceless warrior he was perhaps meant to be. 

_Your presence softens my pain._ Perhaps it signified that Keith’s destiny was to soften the pain of everyone. Take the hit so that no one would ever shed a tear.

But he was discharged from service, on grounds of being not as physically fit. For the years of malnourishment had weakened his bone. He was still a capable fighter, but the general had shaken his head when he saw Keith and told him. 

He did not care if his flower had blossomed just a tiny bit. It had meant he was so close to fulfilling his destiny as a warrior, only to be turned down and sent back home.

⚘⚘⚘

Shiro opened his eyes to bright skylight, woken by soft humming nearby. His father, General Hayato Shirogane stood beside him, and Shiro released a breath.

“You’re home,” General Hayato said in a soft tone. “You’re safe. Rest, my son.” 

“Hayato…” his mother began. 

“Takara, he will heal,” General Hayato said firmly. “Steady yourself.” 

Confused, Shiro glanced about himself. The last thing he remembered after escaping the Daibazaalian prison was firearms raining down on him. Someone, one of the Galran lieutenants working undercover for the alliance, had escorted him to an aircraft. They must have crash-landed. He didn’t know the status of his rescuer. But he recalled a tall woman pulling him from the wreckage. A Galran herself. 

Yet not a foe. There had been Bandor and Romelle’s voices, children of the duke and duchess, and Princess Allura along with King Alfor. He must have blacked out at some point before reaching his family.

Shiro shifted on the bed, and that was when he noticed his right arm. It had been cleaved near the midpoint of his bicep, but in its place was a new, bionic arm. Its soft humming had been the thing that had woken him. The metallic surface gave a pale silver sheen, and the lights glowed a soft turquoise. Work from King Alfor’s men. Perhaps commissioned by the Holts, his top alchemists. Or by the king himself. 

“You will heal,” General Hayato insisted again. 

Shiro lifted the hand to inspect the palm and gave a tiny gasp. The shape of viburnum glowed beautifully, though not yet blossomed, in the metallic palm. 

“ _That_ was unexpected,” General Shirogane said with some amusement in his voice. “It appeared shortly after the king and the Doctors Holts assembled your new arm in.” 

“You soulmate is calling deeply for you,” his mother said with a hand over her heart. 

Shiro clenched his fist. Light still emitted from his palm, seeping between his clenched bionic fingers. His heart ached and yearned for his soulmate. 

_I die if neglected._

_Hang in there, buddy_ , Shiro thought. 

Since that day, he wore a black glove over his hands, trying to stifle the light from his bionic hand and keep all eyes, but especially his, from trailing back towards it.

⚘⚘⚘

The years passed and Keith filed away into the tiny shack with some half-vain hope someone would come happening by and get drawn in by his garden. He continued to practice with the blade his mother had left behind, a blade made with a rare metal allegedly found deep in the core of Daibazaal, so he may protect himself should the day ever come. His body grew in strength; he absorbed every drop of detail his instructors had given him. He could try again, try to enlist, seek approval from General Hayato Shirogane once more. The moon glowed ever ominous in the sky, the empire bearing down on them, his right palm hurting as if his soulmate begged for his presence.

Yet he remained. And still no one had come by. He told himself he did not mind being alone, and yet with each passing day he felt as though something died inside him. Perhaps he was wilting inside, dying with the time lost that should have been spent with his soulmate. 

Keith’s family had lived far away, and no one would ever pass through here. He was trapped in a never-ending cycle. 

Alone, he watched the war rage on, slipping out only to protect the locals. With no purpose, he lived to protect and grant others just one more day. 

_Your presence softens my pain._

Keith kept his garden well-kept, using it as his internal promise to his people, the faceless mass he swore to protect. 

Then one morning the earth shook with a great terrible thunder, more ominous than anything Keith had ever felt. Black smoke and fire rose far in the distance, drawing his eyes and freezing his heart. 

The war had reached the royal courts.

⚘⚘⚘

Commander Krolia had been meaning to check on her son, but as the war grew grimmer, the paths led her farther and farther away. She fought through fire and flame, smoke and venom, at times at risk of her own life. She was Galran, and her appearance alone invoked fear and hatred among the Alteans and Humans alike.

Her battles had led her to cross paths with one young man, the son of General Shirogane, several times over. She had saved him from the aircraft Lieutenant Ulaz had taken back down to Altea, at risk of his own life, and remained with him until he was brought back safely to his family’s mansion. Fate seemed to keep pulling them back together. 

Now Krolia found herself rushing towards the royal courtyard, racing against a nosediving warhead that sped crashing down like a flaming comet. At the last moment she leapt aside as the missile made impact with the earth. 

“Quick! Hurry!” she cried into the guest room. That was where she had found the Princess, the duke and duchess and their children, Baroness Takara, and Takashi Shirogane. 

Krolia’s brother, Commander Thace, and Lieutenant Ilun had joined her for this mission, their black and burgundy-trimmed armor a brief terrifying sight to the people hiding within before Shiro recognized them. He had his sword out; his bionic hand had formed into a shield, and he was standing before a small company including his family, protecting them. 

“They’re coming for you,” Krolia said as she bore down into Shiro’s eyes as some strange sense of familiarity crossed her again. As she addressed him, she spoke in a quieter tone. “I will escort you myself. Everyone else! Follow Thace and Ilun! They’ll lead you to safety!” 

“We can fight!” Princess Allura and the duke’s son proclaimed. 

Thace and Krolia shared looks. 

“Fight if you must,” Krolia said. “But protecting your kin will be your most honorable duty at this time!” 

The two gave their cries of agreement as they filed after Commander Thace. 

The ground shook again. Krolia led Shiro out from the back of the mansion towards the garden. 

“I apologize I must separate you from the rest of your family,” Krolia said as Shiro jogged close behind. “But I must protect them, and if we can find a place for you to hide—”

“How is Ulaz?” Shiro asked. 

“He is still recovering,” Krolia said, briefly taken aback by Shiro’s selflessness despite their time of panic. “Critical, but he will live.” 

“I am so glad—” Shiro gasped and the shield instinctually came back up, protecting her and himself as another missile struck another home, too close to where they were standing. She grabbed him and lurched towards the gardens.

⚘⚘⚘

Fire blazed like tall scarlet trees by the time Keith reached the main courtyard. He called out for anyone who needed rescuing, coughing as a gulps of smoke seeped into his lungs.

He thought he heard someone shout and he ran towards the noise. The sound of metal striking metal broke his run into a mad sprint. 

A young man had been thrown against a bush of viburnum, the blood under him gleaming red under the flickering flames around. He still fought, though with each passing moment he grew weaker. A tall woman fought off Galran soldiers few paces away; though she was holding them back, her back was turned and she couldn’t see her companion was nearly defeated. 

Around them were others, fighters and people trying to put out the flames. 

Without another word, Keith leapt into action, blocking the soldier from the young man with his own luxite blade. He gasped as the emblem on the hilt glowed violet and the blade suddenly lengthened into a long sword, but he recovered quickly, and chopped off the soldier’s arms. 

The young man gave a sharp pained grunt. Keith turned towards him and winced. He had a grievous injury on his abdomen, and sweat poured down his temples. His eyebrows knitted, his face scrunched in agonized pain. His breath came labored. Something stirred deep within Keith’s heart, and he felt a tear run down his cheek. 

“Hey, stay with me,” Keith said softly as he bent down and swept his arms around the man. His head lolled towards Keith’s chest, and Keith swept the sweat away from his brow. 

Suddenly, he felt as though something hot yet not painful swept through the vessel of his right hand, immediately followed by something cool and like a salve. Opening his palm, he watched as the milkvetch blossomed beautifully, its long stem going down into the middle of his forearm. 

The man was also watching the transformation. 

Turquoise light caught Keith’s attention. He glanced down, and without thinking, he slipped the glove off his fingers, watching as the flower on his bionic hand blossomed, moving as fluidly as if he were peering into a pool; they matched the snowy white flowers on the bushes right next to them. 

The plaque on the garden read: _Viburnum • Takashi Shirogane_

“Takashi?” Keith said. 

He smiled. “I normally go by ‘Shiro.’” 

Keith nodded. 

In that moment, the woman came rushing around the corner. Keith looked up and gasped when he recognized her. 

“Keith?”

⚘⚘⚘

In the days following the attack, the fires had been put out. In the weeks following, everyone worked on rebuilding the homes, save for Shiro, who needed bedrest. Keith remained by his side when he was not needed anywhere (and, indeed, it seemed Krolia set them plenty of time to be alone).

As he watched Shiro sleep, as he helped nurse him back to health, the meaning of the words on his palm became more clear. The way Shiro’s face lit up each time he woke up and saw Keith there. And Keith realized: he had a purpose in life, and seeing how alive Shiro was simply in his presence gave him life in return. 

The attacks had subsided into a truce, for now. King Alfor, they were gladdened to hear, was in peace talks with the emperor, and though talks had come before to no benefit, there was always hope to try again. 

General Shirogane had apologized to Keith personally after hearing of his heroic deeds, but Keith had declined, having long forgiven him. Everything happened for a reason, and in the end, he had still found Shiro, as their fates had deemed it.

⚘⚘⚘

They woke up together one morning, having snuggled against the cold the night before.

A pot of flowers sat waiting for them, a beautiful assortment of viburnum and milkvetch. Keith suspected Krolia had went back to their old home and taken the milkvetch from his garden. He was surprised none of the missiles had struck the home. 

“Not that the house was spared,” Shiro reported while sipping broth from a cup. “I overheard as much while she was working with my grandfather and mother. But you and your mother are more than welcome here. And any of her troops.” 

Keith smiled as he took Shiro’s emptied cup. He set it to the side and settled next to him. It wasn’t like Krolia and he had a choice but to remain, for now, not with the Baroness so excited to have met the soulmate of her son. 

Odd as it may seem, they huddled comfortably together as if having known one another for many lifetimes. Keith settled his head against Shiro’s chest. 

“The flowers really look beautiful together,” Shiro said. Keith hummed his agreement against Shiro’s heart.


End file.
